"tonge" poems
She stares into a pool reflecting midnight stars
A scrying glass of mystic mystery
A portal to dimensions where the brave may pass
Without a password or a golden key.
The shimmer of green oceans in the mind's third eye
Reflects a myriad of distant lands
A chalice raised; a sip that brings the lips to sigh
Wingbeating spirit hears and understands.
The trees are hung with lanterns giving amber light
The sky's festooned with stars in veils of cloud
Reflecting in her eyes. In decadent delight
She takes another sip and sighs aloud.
The light green potion lingers lightly on her tonge
Unfolding tastes of mint and aniseed
Promising deeper pleasure while the night is young
Where evening moths and fairies stop to feed.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
You slip another excuse from your blood red lips.
It slithers snake like
flicking its tonge
staring with never blinking eyes
as it climbs up excitedly
strangling me with its obvious deceit.
I accept it regretfully
and slip slowly into blackness as it chokes the air from my pride.
Sure,
next time,
with that salesman's grin on your face.
I just bought a 1982 with a cracked block
and 25% interest.
That giddy smirk on your complexion
it shakes the limp hand of my shameless ignorance.
Still I feel no bliss.
I'd love to see you again you say
bagging up your things
and shaking with anticipation
at the freedom beyond my sight.
My authenticity suddenly becomes pathetic
mirroring your statement
onto a fleeing back.
Now,
my days are spent watching walls
and contemplating loneliness.
The white begins to swirl
pitted pimples capturing old filth.
Its monotone reaches to swallow me whole in the silence
some still blanket grasping.
I'll let go.
It's not that hard to ignore reality
until the cigarette cherry climbs its way to my finger tips
fiery teeth biting.
*Your back,
stay for a while,
Its not like things could get worse than this.*
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
*Once again whispering my confessions to the petals, plucked from the rose you once gave me.
Sweet ghost like love, hangs from the glowing beams that come from the blood moon above my heart.
Its shine that reminds me of nothing but the way your gray eyes would glisson, when next to the beach.
No sounds falls from my lips, that you did, long ago clam, in the heat of a summers day.
Just my whispered confessions that come from my tears that sting and not my tonge that burns.
Wilting petals from the rose you once gave me; falling to the lifeless soil, where you now rest.*
I love and will always love you
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 9:02 AM UTC
A thing which you must have
A thing which you can have for $0
But, to have it,
You must have lots of benign words
to all
And, put away all malice words
A Tongue of Flowers
Charge yourself with all the philanthropy
Never wait someone to have it first
YOU take it first and use it with all
No exceptions
Because if you never did
No one will
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 7:45 AM UTC